Chapter Seventeen
The following morning, Letty slowly woke up from the deepest, most restful night's sleep she had gotten since the night Javier had not come home. It took her several long, groggy seconds to remember where she was: buried under a lightweight, pillowy comforter in her new room at Christian's house in the Florida Panhandle. Then the signals that had woken her up penetrated her nose again, and she sat up abruptly to get a good sniff. Coffee and bacon. She grinned appreciatively.
Slipping into one of her thrift shop outfits (Christian had run a quick load of laundry while she luxuriated in the bubble bath the night before), she padded out to the kitchen, finding her host cheerfully standing guard over a hot skillet. Half-closing her eyes, she put her hands out before her and made like a cartoon sleepwalker, murmuring "coffeeeeee, coffeeeeee", and he laughed and put an empty mug into one of them. After she poured herself a cup and doctored it just right, he handed her his mug as well, and sent her out the sliding glass back door. "It's a lovely morning. Why don't we have breakfast in the Florida room?"
"The 'Florida room'?"
"The screened-in patio. Down here they call it a Florida room."
"Ah. Gotcha."
When Christian carried two loaded plates outside a few minutes later, he found Letty sitting quiet and still at the table there, staring wide-eyed with delight out through the screens at the garden in full bloom surrounding the patio, filling the back yard to the tall privacy fence on every side. "This is... beautiful," she breathed, not turning her head.
"Thank you," he replied, oozing satisfaction. "It's a work in progress – but then all gardens are. You never really finish one."
"You did this all yourself?" she asked, surprised.
"Mostly. The big shrubs and trees were here already, but I've added all the smaller things. Had to take out quite a bit of crap and weeds first."
"Never figured you for a gardener," she commented as she turned in her chair to face the table and picked up her fork. Breakfast was a large, loaded omelet with toast, and quickly proved to be a culinary match for the lush garden. "Or a cook, either," she added. "This is delicious!"
"I'm just full of surprises," he grinned mischievously, then turned a little more serious. "Even to myself. A lot of this is new to me, too." He paused, then said with an air of summing up, "I'm finally building a life here that really suits me – a quiet, satisfying life."
"What are you doing?" she wanted to know. "Your job, I mean."
Christian grinned. "You're going to laugh. My first career was an educator – and I really enjoyed it – most of it. My second, in law enforcement – that one, not so much, though it had its moments. Now I've combined the two." He paused, and she raised her eyebrows. "I'm teaching GED and other remedial courses to inmates down at the state prison."
"You're kidding. And that's satisfying?"
"It really is. I really feel like I'm doing some good. I'm not getting to all of them, but I'm getting to a lot of them." Grinning again, he put his fork down. "It started with my very first class. I was scared shitless, but I got up in front of two dozen inmates – this is a medium-security place – and I told them frankly: 'You're fucked. You know it, and I know it. The system is designed to fuck you, and keep fucking you, and the ONLY path open to you, that has the remotest chance – but no guarantee – of stopping the fucking, is education. And your first step on that path is right here. So can we please just cut the crap?' And believe it or not, it worked. I've repeated it in every class." He laughed. "Of course, I have an ace up my sleeve. I have total control over who stays in my classes. If anybody is being a jackass, and only there to get out of a couple of hours of work, I just call the guards and have that person escorted out. They get the point real quick – I'm there to teach them, not babysit."
"Good for you," Letty told him honestly.
"So I have a satisfying job," he went on. "It doesn't pay real well, but it pays enough for my needs. And I have this house, and the garden, and I'm still writing, and I have a few groups I get together with. All in all, yeah... a nice, little, comfortable, satisfying life. I can see myself doing this for the rest of my life quite happily."
"No more robbing hotels, or nightclubs? Or palling around with reprobates like me?"
"I'll pal around with you any day, silly. That's why you're here." Without warning, he edged into seriousness. "I want to help you, Letty. You need a brand new start, and I want to help you get it – you and that baby you're carrying. I care about you, very much." He held up a hand. "For the record, now, I have zero romantic or sexual interest in you. There's none of that going on. You are a very dear friend to me, that's all – but one who needs help, and I want to give it." Not letting her react to that, Christian leaned forward with his forearms on the table. "So here's the question. What is it you want from life, Letty?"
"What do I want from life?" she began, ready to slide into her usual wisecracks, when without warning, the grief she'd been hiding from all morning swamped her, twisting her face and cracking her voice. "I want my husband back!" burst out before she clapped a hand to her mouth and twisted in her seat, wracked with agony. Christian said nothing, looking out at the garden and giving her the space she needed, reflecting on his own painful memories.
It took a few minutes, but finally Letty was able to sit up straight again and drop her hands from her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"It's okay," he replied kindly, and meant it. "I understand." His head tipped to one side. "You know, I hardly knew Javier at all – the only time we ever spent more than a couple of minutes together was that night in the hotel with all of us – and in the Sprinter, before and after." He paused. "But I liked him. And not just because of how he was taking care of you. I liked him as a person." A small laugh slipped out. "That whole night, I kept thinking, 'if all of my parolees had been like this guy, I would have loved that job!' " Letty managed a tiny, shaky smile at that. "I never could quite manage to reconcile that side of him with... well, what he was accused of. I'm not going to ask you any questions on that – it's history now. But I can't figure out how you reconciled it, either."
"I didn't," she replied honestly, shaking her head. "I never could reconcile the bad and good sides of anybody. I just... loved the parts of him that I could." Her voice cracked again, and she stopped for a second to clear her throat, then gave a steady, level look across the table at Christian. "Don't try to tell me you didn't do the same."
Surprised, he thought a second, then nodded. "No. You're right, I did." Gazing steadily back at her, he added, "I wish I could give him back to you – I really do – but I can't. No one can. So, setting aside the impossible – for now – if you can – what else do you want from life?"
She didn't answer for a minute, but he could tell she was thinking about it; possibly the first time in her life she'd considered that exact question. "I want to be safe. I want to be secure. I want to be happy – but I'm not holding out for it." She scrunched her eyes shut for a second, then forced herself on. "I want to be able to go through my day without having people looking sideways at me. Without them thinking – let alone saying to my face, 'you belong in prison', and calling me all kinds of filthy names. If you can think of it, I've been called it." She'd been gazing out at the garden, but now she turned and spoke directly to Christian as a new vista opened up. She struggled at first for the words. "I want to have... to make... a safe... stable... comfortable home, that I can raise Javier's baby in, and nobody... can ever... take him – or her – away from me. I want to raise them up to be a normal, well-adjusted, loving, sane adult – and have them still be willing to talk to me when it's done, and not think of me as this twisted, broken, walking shitshow of a monster who can't be trusted, who ruined their life." Rushing the last few phrases, she ended on a little sob, squashing memories of things Jacob had said, the look of pain and disappointment in his eyes sometimes – or the expressions of disgust on her own mother's face.
"Those are good goals," Christian commented after a moment, bringing her back to the present. "Those are really good goals. Will you let me help you get there?"
She nodded slowly. "I sure as hell don't have any idea how to get there myself." That reminded her of the previous time she'd said that, and she added suddenly, "I've got to send an email to Doctor John."
"Who?" He was startled.
"McDaniels – at the hospital."
"The one who called me?"
"Yes. I promised I'd write him an email when I got settled, to let him know where, and he promised in return that he'd do some research, and send me contacts in the area that would help me sign up for shit like SNAP benefits – and Medicaid for me and the baby." She didn't mention counseling.
He grinned appreciatively. "That's a great idea. I know some of the local offices, but some outside assistance would be great. I'm sure he'd think of things I won't." Likewise, he forbore to comment on the world-shattering incongruity of Letty Raines ever going by the book, let alone applying for any kind of government assistance.
Letty grimaced. "I need a new email address, first – one that's a little more adult and professional than the one I've had all these years. Will you help me think of one?" He nodded. She swore under her breath, tiredly. "I've got to do so many things – new driver's license, new copies of my birth certificate, marriage certificate... I've lost everything." Her voice trailed off as the mountain kept growing in her mind.
Christian threw up a hand. "Whoa, there. Slow down. You don't have to do anything right away – nothing is so catastrophic that you can't put it off for a while. I mean it. Letty... you're going through some of the worst shit a human being can go through. Losing a spouse, and the birth of a child, are right up there at the top of the list of trauma-inducing events in a person's life. You need to slow down, take some time off, and let yourself deal with them naturally."
"And do what?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"Just... live... for a while. Stay here... sleep... eat... watch TV – "
"I hate TV," she interjected, but he waved her off.
"Surf the internet, listen to music, read books, go for walks on the beach – it's just five blocks that way," he pointed over her shoulder. "Just... take some time, and let yourself begin to heal. You don't have to rush into anything," he repeated, then offered a practical idea. "As you think of things you need to do, like your license, make a list of them on your phone. Then, when and as you're up to it, you can start going through them one by one."
He could tell she was tempted. But, "How long can I stay here?" she asked with some trepidation.
"As long as you want. I mean it."
"Without even paying you rent?" She plainly thought the offer was too good to be true.
"What rent? Letty, I paid cash in full for this house; no rent, no mortgage. Same with the car. But I'll tell you what. If it makes you feel better, when you start having money come in, from whatever source, you can start chipping in for your fair share of groceries and utilities. How does that sound?"
She gazed at him for a moment longer, trying to gauge his sincerity, before she nodded. "Okay." Letting that go, at least for the time being, she gave a heavy sigh. "But I still need to find a job sometime. And keep it, for once. If I can figure out how."
Christian held up a finger. "I am going to change one word in that sentence. You don't need a job. You need to find a career. Something that you like to do, that you can sink your teeth into, that you can do for the rest of your life – or at least, for many years. Something that, well, maybe you won't ever love getting up and going to work, but at least you won't dread it every day. And preferably something that will pay you well – eventually, if not right away. Kids are expensive, and only get more so as they get older."
That all sounded great to Letty, "But I'm not qualified for anything like that." She told him about her exciting typing skills – all of nine words a minute.
"You're not qualified now. While you're taking your time and adjusting to these traumatic life changes, you could also be using the same time to pick up whatever skills or certifications you need. Yes, I'm going to say those dreaded two words: community college. We have a pretty good one here in Panama City, with a couple dozen different vocational programs – everything from nursing to welding – but if none of them suit you, Tallahassee is within commuting distance, and there are a dozen or more colleges there, too."
"But in what?" She had honestly never given any kind of higher education any thought, ever since dropping out of high school.
Christian shrugged. "In whatever you want. Whatever strikes your interest. We'll go through catalogs – and I know some online vocational surveys – and see what hits you."
She wasn't done objecting. "And how am I supposed to pay for it?" College was expensive, that much she knew.
He waved that one away, too. "Don't worry about it up front. Find the field that intrigues and excites you, first, and then look into financing. You might qualify for scholarships, grants, job training funds, all sorts of things. We'll figure it out." He leaned forward to emphasize the next point. "The important thing is, like everything else right now, to take... your... time. You don't have to rush into anything, and you shouldn't. We're talking about setting up the rest of your life, and your baby's life. Let's make sure it gets onto the right track. I know it's enticing to think about having everything in place by the time the baby's born, but that's completely unrealistic, and unnecessary. Some programs take a couple of years. That's okay. We'll all pull through together, until you're well and truly launched. Okay?"
Letty was feeling a little overwhelmed by the prospect. "I still feel like I should get a job sooner than that." Stopping herself, she scoffed. "And I can't believe I just said that."
That got a laugh from Christian, too. "Well, if you do, think of it as a temporary one, maybe just part time, while you set about getting those skills."
Looking away from his intense eyes to the colorful garden again, Letty tried to feel her way through the jungle of ideas he'd been throwing at her. After a while, she thought, Maybe I can do this. At last, she looked back at Christian again. "Okay," she agreed tentatively. "But I need to ask you to promise me something." The quaver in her voice alerted him to the importance of whatever it was. "I've heard that before, that I can stay somewhere 'as long as I want'. And it never works out. I tend to wear out my welcome amazingly fast, and I don't even know how. So I really... need you to sincerely promise me, that if I wear out my welcome here, please... please... give me at least a little notice, so I can find a place to move to. Don't just kick me out to the curb."
The look in her eyes was tragic, and it caught his heart. How many times had she just been dumped like that, by so-called 'friends' and 'family'? He had witnessed one time himself, turned cruelly away by her own mother. Leaning forward again, he reached across the table and took her hand. "It won't happen, but I promise," he said sincerely. "At least one full month's notice. And I'll help you find a new place, and move. I'll put that in writing, if you want me to."
One side of her mouth stretched in an ironic smile. "No. If you won't keep that promise without a piece of paper, you won't keep it with one, either. And what would I do, take you to court? I wouldn't want to stay where I'm not wanted, anyway."
"You are wanted here," he told her simply.
That brought tears once more to Letty's eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.